176
by ember53608
Summary: how many days will it take for maya hart to get over her best friends' break-up? no one knows. [canon divergence.]
1. day 000: break-ups and shadows

**Note:** I'm going to be a cruel human being and assume that Riley and Lucas break up around a month or so after the end of their sophomore year, simply because I want to set Maya and Lucas up to have the most serious relationship possible (in my experience, 'serious' rarely happens in high school before junior year). Although, as to how Riley and Lucas would make their relationship last for three years, I'm stuck. Maybe friends who occasionally hold hands and look into each other's eyes have a way of keeping things going. Maybe a certain someone just wants to keep things the way they are because he is afraid of love triangles and change. Maybe said someone and his secret crush really are so oblivious and in denial that it takes them three years to even consider themselves being a thing. Maybe I'm starting to ramble.

As always, read and review!

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She's splayed out across her bed one late August day, contemplating junior year and cutting her hair, when her phone starts to vibrate violently from its place on her table. Maya opens her eyes wide to the white and brick ceiling above her, gaze following the shadows the sunlight pans across its surface. The shapes are incoherent and mean nothing to her, but she finds some sort of solace in their constant waxing and waning. Her eyes latch onto their edges in an almost childish hunger, and after a few good seconds of staring, entranced, at the shadows, she blinks once more out of her reverie. She sprints across the room in two strides, catching her phone neatly in the palm of her hand before punching the green 'receive call' button.

"Hey," Maya breathes. She hasn't looked at the name on the screen, but at this time of day, and on this _particular_ day, there is no one else who could be calling her, so the phone goes straight to her ear. She balances it between her ear and shoulder, using her hands to twist nervous curls out of her hair. It's true that she's been consumed with other imaginings for these past few hours, but it's also true that in the back of her mind, she's been waiting patiently for this call to come her way, for this happiness from the other end to spill onto her shoulders. The prospect of her third year in high school and a spunky shoulder cut have been mere distractions, meant to keep her from biting her nails crooked. (And yet here she is, one hand straying to her mouth as she waits nervously in anticipation.)

"Hey." Riley's voice is breathless; it trembles and shivers, as is evident in the static that travels across satellite towers. Maya bites her lip, anxious to hear what comes after.

"So," she says, "what happened?" She waits a minute, bouncing lightly up and down on her bed as Riley continues simply to exist on the other end. The static that froths at Maya's ear does not tell her much; only that Riley is as nervous or jumpy or excited as she is. Maya lets a small smile tug at the corners of her lips. There are no words to describe the way she feels when her best friend is happy - just memories and sensations. The sun shining into her wall past the window; Katy pressing her face to her curls; the icing on a donut melting inside her mouth; Lucas leaning back into Riley's first kiss.

"He said he couldn't be with me."

Maya bites off the end of her pinky nail.

The sliver detaches from her teeth and starts traveling back into her mouth. She gags for a few seconds, trying to get the ugly, jagged thing off of her tongue and out of her mouth. When it finally flies past her lips and onto the floor, she doesn't bend down to pick it up. Instead, she clenches her fingers around the edge of her mattress and stares into the carpet before her, trying to wrap her head around the words that were just pressed into her ear. Riley remains silent and breathing on the other end, her breaths creating a surge in the static every now and then. "I- I don't understand," Maya says. "Everything- everything was perfect."

"It was," Riley replies hollowly. "The dress, the flowers, the reservations. Everything was - perfect."

"Then what _happened_?" Maya asks. She springs from her bed and starts to pace across her room, running a hand through the tangles in her hair. The last conversation she had with Lucas was a relatively positive one, if she remembers correctly. They'd been going over the details of a date - _the_ date - and she'd ticked off every last part of the night on her fingers before he left to change into his nicest ensemble of clothes. He had sounded a little nervous, she admits, stumbling every once in a while over his words. But wasn't that how anyone was supposed to feel before a date night of epic proportions? A moderately quick heartbeat and sweat beading on your neck were, in Maya's opinion, quite natural tendencies in light of such a situation.

Riley sniffles a little on the other end, and Maya's throat constricts in response. She can picture it as clearly as the shadows above her head: Riley curled into her bed sheets, hair spread across her pillow, tears running down her cheeks in rivulets. A sudden impulse to comfort her best friend sends Maya out the window and down the fire escape. She jumps nimbly from stair step to stair step, all the while trying to think of something supportive to say. The romances in comics and on television tell her that she should prioritize comfort and encouragement over prying and over-analyzing, so Maya takes a quick breath and then says, "I'm on my way, okay?"

"Okay." Riley's voice cracks and breaks off into a muffled sob. Maya wonders where Cory and Topanga are, or even Auggie, for that matter. The members of the Matthews family have little to no concept of privacy; under normal circumstances, mother and father would be sitting protectively on either side of their daughter, threatening to accost whoever it was that had done this to her. But the only sounds Maya hears from her phone are those of Riley crying and breathing, so she quickens her step and breaks into a run as she scrambles across the streets of New York. The Matthews' apartment building is only three blocks away, and she knows she can make that distance in less than five minutes if she really, really tries. She reiterates her words - "I'm coming, I'm coming" - before hanging up and pocketing her phone.

The fire escape to the apartment building seems infinitely taller than it was the last time she was here. Maya nearly tumbles through the window when she finally makes it. Her face is just a few inches from the floor, but she catches herself and turns the stumble into a stride that carries her across the room. Riley's face is buried into her pillow, her hands clutching tightly at the sheets as cries silently to herself. Maya refrains from saying anything, choosing instead to massage the brunette's shoulders, hoping that the calming motions will eventually coax Riley out of her dysphoria and lead to some explanations. She doesn't want to push too many buttons right off the bat, but her curiosity and confusion over the matter are nagging at her like crazy, and it's taking an enormous amount of effort for her to purse her lips closed. A part of her wonders whether she should leave Riley to her grieving and question Lucas instead; God knows it'd be easier for her to do. Less coaxing, more beating. Maya is comfortable with working that way.

"He couldn't say it."

Maya blinks. "What?"

Riley lifts herself from the covers and moves into a sitting position. She smiles weakly at Maya before pushing her hair away from her face - red, blotchy, and streaked with tears - and crossing her legs over each other. Her eyes don't glow as brightly, and her skin seems dark and shaded, but the simper in her lips is a genuine effort. She rocks back and forth in place for a while, holding her feet together with her hands in some mimicry of the lotus position while Maya inspects the crooked surface of her broken nail. There aren't any words said between them in this moment, only motions conveyed. If one were to walk into the room right now, they would stare at the scene and be unable to understand. Soul sisters were elusive in that way; the little things they did meant something more than the normal human could comprehend.

"I said it to him," Riley elaborates, vaguely. She starts tracing words into the lilac of her bed spread, Maya's eyes following hungrily along. A stick becomes 'I', a loop an 'l', a circle an 'o', and so on. Maya feels her breath fall away as the realization dawns upon her. She has to hand it to Riley; barely a junior, and her best friend is already making a declaration of love. Granted, she and Lucas have been dating for more than three years. But to think that someone so young could actually bring up the courage to say the three, magic words is beyond Maya; she never thought that they could really carry weight before one turned eighteen, rarities and exceptions aside. High school affairs rarely, if ever, last past graduation day. The couples that stick are made after eighteen, not before it. Yet for some reason, she still finds it in herself to wonder why Riley and Lucas can no longer be a thing.

"And he couldn't say it?" Maya asks quietly.

The pained look that crosses Riley's face makes Maya wish she never said a word. Tears threaten to spill down her best friend's face all over again, but somehow Riley manages to reign her emotions into one heartbreaking, hurting smile. She shakes her head 'no' before looking down into her lap, where a few tears manage to fall. The sunlight is starting to dim outside, throwing more shadows across the room as dusk slowly approaches. Maya's phone buzzes restlessly in her pocket, and the sounds of Riley's family, who finally seems to be home, bounce off the hallway outside. Maya rests her hand atop Riley's and squeezes, watching the shadows in thoughtful silence. There isn't much to be said anymore, so instead, the two girls wonder:

Riley, about what she'll say when she sees him again, inevitably, at the start of junior year.

And Maya, about how long it will take for her to get over a break-up that isn't even hers.

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Sorry if this chapter seems a little Rucas oriented! That's just to help set up the rest of the fic, which I promise will be riddled with tons of Lucaya. ;)


	2. day 004: new year, new us, new me

**Note:** So, Girl Meets Yearbook. . . _Yikes_. There was quite a bit of foreshadowing packed into that episode, if I do say so myself. But for those of you who haven't watched it yet, no need to worry! There are no spoilers concerning the episode in the chapter below. I'm going to take any canon material as it airs officially.

As always, read and review! (I really appreciated the reviews from the last chapter, thank you.)

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The first day of school is in itself so stressful an occasion that sometimes Maya wishes she never had to face it. She pulls distastefully at the awkwardly bent collar of her shirt, a sleeveless plaid colored various shades of blue. Thirteen minutes into her Monday morning, and she still hasn't settled into her outfit. The cuffs of her khakis bite at her ankles and her new pair of Oxfords seem suddenly uncomfortable. Maya looks up from her collar and into the mirror, frowning when she notices too many loose ends falling from her bun. She's already tied up the damn thing about six times, each attempt ending with the same result. At this point, she might as well resort to letting her hair fall naturally about her shoulders, as unexciting an option as that is.

"Hair trouble?" Riley asks, coming up from behind. (She insisted that this year she'd be the one to do the picking-up, not Maya.) The brunette smiles and starts to undo the bun, but Maya waves her off. "Nothing I can't handle," says the blonde.

Riley rolls her eyes. "Maya, _please_. I'm fine." An entire four days has lapsed since the fateful Thursday night dinner, and where Riley seems to be easily accepting the fact of her break-up - or ignoring it altogether - Maya is helplessly wallowing in denial. The state of union within their friend group is something that has always made it onto her list of top priorities, and at the moment, it rests in such horrifying shambles that Maya isn't sure whether to simply break down or outright panic. She wonders for a moment if perhaps she and Farkle will have enough good karma between them to keep things smooth, but then the thought really hits her and she shakes her head in frustration. She and Farkle could not keep things smooth even if their lives depended on it.

"I'll believe it when I see it," she replies, as coolly as possible. Maya runs her fingers through the tangles in her hair before hastily pinning up her bangs. The subway is set to leave in less than twenty minutes, and if she wants to go to school with food in her stomach, she has to drop any and all concerns about her outfit right now. So signals a yell from Katy, who is hopefully making breakfast for the two of them. Maya grabs her backpack with one hand and Riley's hand with the other before parading out of the room.

As they walk into the kitchen, Katy gestures dramatically to the breakfast table. Resting on two plates each is a short stack of pancakes drizzled generously with huckleberry syrup. Maya's mouth waters, and Katy resists breaking out into a gleeful smile. "I figured it was the least I could do," she explains nonchalantly, "what with junior year being hell and all." Though Maya's mother still doesn't have the most prosperous of jobs, under Topanga's supervision, she has better hours and time to be home for occasions like breakfast and dinner, for which Maya could not be happier.

" _I love you,_ " Maya breathes, and within seconds she's digging into her breakfast, her anxieties temporarily forgotten. Katy tucks into her own short stack as well, and though there are evidently more important things to be worrying about this morning - catching the subway, last-minute summer reading - mother and daughter somehow end up racing each other in the most immature and childish of ways. Upon taking her last bite, Maya kisses her mother's cheek, sprints across to the sink, and splashes her face with water. She can always redo her makeup in the subway, and besides, what with them having barely ten minutes to spare, there's no way that Riley is waiting for her to take care of something else. The brunette looks at her expectantly as she gathers her things together. "I know, I know," Maya says. "I'm hurrying."

"Yeah, well, hurry faster."

The girls bypass the apartment complex's elevator and make for the stairwell instead, taking two steps at a time before breaking out onto the street. Maya turns her head left and right, surveying the traffic. They're bound to be late if they take the normal route, but if they take the shortcut, her Oxfords will be ruined. With a huff of frustration, Maya pulls Riley in the direction of the general traffic and starts leading them through the constantly moving crowd. They dart in between couples and under people's arms, and the rush of it all is so exhilarating that for the first time since Thursday night, Riley genuinely laughs. She and Maya race down block after block before finally reaching the entrance to the subway. They giggle breathlessly as they make their way down, blissfully ignorant towards their recent concerns.

Riley looks at her watch. "One minute to spare," she says, beaming. The subway that will take them to school sits before them, its doors opened wide at three different points. Maya takes Riley's hand and moves to get into line behind the dozens of other people still waiting to file on. They start talking about the summer reading, with Riley babbling on about how beautifully everyone in _Les Misérables_ is connected while Maya tries to intake as much about the novel as is possible. She's read the first two-thirds of it and intends to read the rest, but recent daydreaming and other troubles have prevented her from doing so. As they move onto the subway, she starts mentally summarizing what she's read thus far, taking care not to mix up any names.

"Fantine, prostitute. Valjean, Prisoner 24601. Cosette, orphan. Javert - _Hey!_ " Maya stumbles backwards and holds a hand to her head; a boy stands across from her and does likewise. She thinks she hears him swear under his breath, but she can't be sure. All she knows is that the idiot wasn't looking where he was going - then again, neither was she - and that he's going to get a piece of her mind. Maya opens her mouth to voice a complaint, but as soon as the boy's face comes into view, the nasty words die on her tongue. Lucas stands before her, lips parted and eyes stretched as he stares at them, shocked.

He wears a summer blue polo and straight cut jeans, and the strap of his book bag slants diagonally over his chest like always. Maya watches quietly as his fingers wrap around the strap and his Adam's apple bobs nervously in his throat. His eyes seem fixed on Riley, behind her, but the brunette refuses to look at him and simply casts her gaze on the old man seated to their left. The entire picture put together feels like something out of a movie, and it makes Maya feel incredibly uncomfortable. She mentally berates herself for not having predicted this sooner. Of course they were bound to meet him on the subway; how else was he supposed to get to school?

"Riley, I," she starts to say, but when she turns back, her best friend has already disappeared. Lucas rests a hand on her shoulder, to which she responds by whirling around and out of his grip. His face ends up less than a foot from hers, and he stares at her so intently that she forgets everything else save how to breathe. "Jesus, Lucas," she murmurs. He doesn't make a move to back away, nor does he mention that she just said his name. Either seems to be the result of a dangerous decision, and she's sure he's already made enough of those in one night to last him a lifetime. Maya half-glares at him and weighs her options, trying to decide whether he's worth her time.

They end up taking two seats vacated by a couple at the next stop, much to her chagrin. They remain quiet for the most part, with Lucas parting his lips once or twice in an effort to make conversation. Maya wrings her hands together and arches her neck, looking for Riley while he passes empty words at her. She isn't sure how things will be between the two of them now that he and Riley are broken up, but the awkward atmosphere that surrounds them in this moment makes an irritated blush creep up her neck, and she fights to keep from looking him full in the eye. A small part of her aches to get up from the seat and walk away, but her conscience thinks better of the action.

"So, is this how it's going to be from now on?" he asks.

She spares him a questioning glance. "What do you mean, 'this'?"

"I mean 'this'." He throws his hands apart before clapping them down on his knees and giving her an exasperated look. Maya bites her lip. She desperately wants to call him something right now; the only thing keeping her from doing it is her loyalty as a best friend, and the hurt she can imagine etched onto Riley's face. Lucas bends down in an effort to catch her gaze, but she turns away from him to look out the window, at the gray, dripping walls that fly by. The second that his eyes catch hers she will break, and her mouth will open and words will fly everywhere, and despite all of the circumstances, they'll start to banter, because this is what they are - too many words and too many insults, but just enough friendly intent.

"It's our stop," he murmurs. His hand grazes her knee as he stands up, but Maya stays attached to her seat, eyes fixed on the terminal as he disappears into the crowd. It bothers her, how short their conversation was; under normal circumstances, they would have been longer, and less tense. Maya chews on her lip and glares at nothing in particular. When Riley surfaces in front of her a few minutes later, she tears her eyes away from the window and does a once-over of her best friend. The brunette looks, for the most part, unfazed. Her hazel eyes glow with a thirst for knowledge, and she holds out her hand for Maya to take. Maya stares curiously at her; either the break-up really has left Riley's mind, or she's learned how to play the part. Maya bets on the latter.

"Ready?" she asks, squeezing Riley's hand and mustering a smile. The two girls face the doors of the subway and look out onto the platform, crowded with an infinite number of people. The stairs to the streets are only a few yards away, and the walk to the high school is a matter of three, short blocks. They share first period together, and fifth after that; any other interaction rests on passing periods and lunch. Maya wonders if it'll all be enough to keep what they have from changing any further. She gulps nervously and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, Lucas having all but left her mind. (He shares second period with her, not to mention fourth, sixth, and seventh. The chances of it to her are nothing less than bizarre.)

Riley squeezes back and gives her a reassuring look. They step out onto the platform.

"Whenever you are."

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It took me forever to churn out this chapter, and I'm sorry if it's a little lackluster. My writing mojo is a sporadic thing that comes and goes when it wants, unfortunately. Hopefully, it's more willing to cooperate when I'm writing the next chapter. :)


	3. day 009: h(e)art talk

I have not posted in almost a month, and I apologize for that! These first few weeks of school were more hectic than I thought they'd be, and on top of it I was experiencing some writer's block. Hopefully, you won't have to wait as long for the update that follows this one. (I'm crossing my fingers.) Currently, I'm pondering as to whether or not I should continue this fic if Lucas and Maya actually enter a relationship before the end of the season. If you'd like for me to continue, then **please leave some reviews!** That'll definitely help me make a decision!

AN: This gets to be a wee bit dark. But we all love Lucaya and dark, do we not? ;)

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Over the years, Maya has decided that Saturdays exist solely for the purpose of stress relieving. Forget the English essay that's due on Monday, or the French project that she should be working on - Saturdays are _her_ day, and no one else's. So she's made it clear by turning off her cell phone and turning up the speakers, clearing out the living room and making it an art room instead. The day is so much hers that even Riley, undeniable best friend that she is, doesn't dare to make an unannounced appearance on her doorstep unless the situation is dire.

Maya regrets that she hasn't relayed this kind of information to _all_ of her friends.

Saturday morning finds her buried under the covers of her bed and some idiot standing at her doorstep. She groans loudly as she hears one ring of the doorbell echo throughout her apartment, and a few seconds later, a second. It's not long before there's a third ring, and Maya considers her options. Best case scenario, it could be Riley come to her with a new wave of post-break-up depression, and truth be told, she wouldn't mind that a bit. (After all, she isn't going to hold her best friend accountable for something that wasn't her fault.) Worst case scenario, it could be a public service employee come to her with shit that she never wanted or asked for. And that would almost certainly ruin everything.

Since she's more than half awake anyway, Maya opts to have a look-see at her doorstep. She rolls out of bed and drags a hand lazily through her unkempt hair. Whoever it is that's got business with her will have to deal with the mess that she is right now. She doesn't care enough to want to make herself look good.

The bell rings a fourth time, and Maya, instantly peeved, whips the door open with her brows creased and lips pinched. "Do you _mind?_ " she hisses, recognizing who it is that stands before her too late. Lucas parts his lips but does not say anything, and for the briefest of moments Maya wishes that she did not look so utterly wretched - because _he_ looks good. His hair is combed to a point and traced with flecks of shower water, and he's wearing what's typical of any high school boy these days: a polo, nice shorts, and a pair of Top Siders. The look is cliche, but on him, Maya has come to find that cliche simply ceases to exist. She bites anxiously at a fingernail while he fumbles for words. Neither makes a move to step across the threshold.

"I, uh. I thought you were ignoring me," he starts. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Maya forces a smile. Though she appreciates his apology, she does not appreciate his presence there. She doesn't know what to do with him, with this boy who broke her best friend's heart. She doesn't know what to think or what to see or what to say, and it makes her not want to look at him at all. The more she avoids him the quicker this awkward feeling disappears; that's the only thought in her head right now.

"I'm sorry, could I-" He stops, casts a glance to his frocket, then looks back to her again. "Could I talk to you, for a bit?"

"We talk everyday," she replies.

"About school, and how much you love English class," he counters. Lucas fixes her with a solid stare, refusing to move from his spot. His Top Siders touch the tip of the threshold, and if he really wanted to, he could inch forward and be in her apartment already. Her arms aren't even splayed out. He could easily walk past her, forego her permission entirely out of impatience and frustration.

But he doesn't.

"There's bread and butter in the fridge," she says, stepping back to let him in, "if you haven't had breakfast yet." He blinks in surprise, then touches a hand to his collar before walking in. She keeps the door open for a moment, staring out into the hallway and at the vacated space of air that hovers there. As she turns on her heel, a thought runs through her head.

She has never been alone with Lucas Friar before.

He walks uncertainly into her living room, passing his gaze between the couch and a random bar stool. Any other times he's been to her apartment, he's been on the other side of the glass, peering into her bedroom from his perch on her stairwell. Maya rolls her eyes and shoves him onto the couch as she strides past. He hasn't replied to her earlier offer of breakfast, but in all honesty, she could care less. At the moment, she's absolutely starving, and that fact takes priority over anything else, deep conversations included.

"Have you even talked to her?" she asks, looking into the fridge.

"I've tried." After a pause, he adds, "Does that count?"

"Haha, _no_."

Lucas chuckles lightly. "I didn't think so."

"You could always start from the beginning," she suggests, surprised when she says it. If anything, she shouldn't be encouraging him. Though they've managed to maintain the guise of still being friends in school thus far, she can always break things off if she really wants to. In fact, she probably should.

He drags a hand over his face as she comes around the back with cookies and a tall glass of milk in tow. When she takes a seat next to him, she makes sure that there is a space of six inches in between them. It isn't exactly a _keep your friends close and keep your enemies closer_ sort of thing, just a precaution that she feels she should take.

"What if I," he begins. His hand still half-covers his face. All she can see are his lips, slightly down-turned at the corners; maybe a fraction of his eyes. "What if I only told you what mattered?"

Her breath hitches in her throat.

 _Okay_ , she doesn't say.

"You know, I." He stops again, on that same word, _I,_ and she wonders, if maybe, he hates himself in this moment. If he hated himself in that one. Lucas Friar may be perfect, but even perfect people come to hate themselves at some point. Imperfect people just happen to come to the conclusion of it sooner.

"I thought I could do it," he continues. "You know, I, I did everything you told me to. _Everything._ "

Maya doesn't doubt it. They were on the phone for at least three hours that afternoon, before the date actually happened. And though she knew close to nothing about what a real relationship was like, she gave him as much advice as her repertoire of TV shows would offer, because she cared. About him, and about Riley.

"And then I got there, and I looked at her, and I realized that if I told her, if I told her those three words, I would be lying. And I couldn't do that."

Her mind wanders back to that fateful day in the eighth grade, when she naively chose to be Riley Matthews for the day. She would discover something about her best friend, her mother had told her, something that even she didn't know. Maya had thought nothing of the advice initially, but when those heavy handed words had fallen from her mouth later in class, she had instantly regretted ever trying to set things right.

Because in a perfect world, Riley Matthews and Lucas Friar would have been together forever. In a perfect world, Riley Matthews would really have loved Lucas Friar, and he would really have loved her back.

But this was not a perfect world.

She absentmindedly thumbs the rim of her glass, waiting for him to say anything further. Barely any time has passed since he first stepped in, yet it feels almost as if they have been here sitting for hours, him pouring his heart out to her, and her listening intently, all internal conflicts aside. Maya feels a tinge of sympathy for Lucas. Though she'd never admit it, she's glad that she let him in. These words he's given to her are something she didn't know she needed. They let her believe in the goodness of people just a little bit more than she did yesterday.

 _But why_ , she thinks.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Lucas draws his hand away from his face to look at her. His stare is as piercing as the one at the door, but there is something different about it now. It sends a shiver of uncertainty down her spine. Maya bites her lip and curls her fingers in, trying to busy herself with licking away the cookie crumbs stuck to her teeth. Her glass of milk stands full to the brim, rim never brought to her lips for fear of breaking the tension that clearly rests in the air. As she studies his face, she decides that once he's left she will guzzle the entire thing in one gulp. The t-shirt she's wearing is in need of some washing anyway; soaking it with some milk surely wouldn't hurt.

"I'm telling you because I'd like to be friends again."

This catches her off guard.

"We were already friends," she replies, managing miraculously not to stutter.

"That's not the way I see it."

And here he is with the 'it', again, or 'this', or whatever it is. The atmosphere that's been resting between them this past week still hasn't been given a name, but the proposition of rekindling the friendship they once had offers the possibility of never having to christen it in the first place. Maya considers stepping once again into foreign territory, as she did four years ago when they both shared a relationship that lasted one minute long. The thought of reentering Lucas Friar's world is not so daunting, now that she thinks about. Though Riley may no longer be what she was to him before, she is still one fundamental, crucial thing.

And that, Maya tells herself, is a friend.

"I finally like you," she finds herself saying, and he actually smiles. The words mean more than she ever thought they would; she's glad for that.

Lucas stands from the couch and leads himself to the door, Maya following with her glass of milk in hand. As he steps past the threshold, he turns to her with a hesitant look on his face. "You- you won't tell Riley about this, will you?" he asks.

For a moment, she wonders whether he's actually expecting her to keep quiet about the whole thing. She frowns and draws her brows in, thinks about what he's said, before finally melding her lips into a grin.

"Nope," Maya replies, jabbing her finger into his chest, " _you_ will." Lucas laughs and gently pushes her hand back.

"Yes, ma'am," he says.

And she finally likes him.

* * *

I bet you thought it was going to start veering towards romance, right? Hahaha, too soon, lovelies, too soon.


	4. notice!

Hello, peeps!

I just wanted to let you all know that I have in no way given up on this fic; I am simply really, _really_ busy with college applications. Come Thanksgiving Break (I hope), I will have a new chapter posted. I can't promise you anything, but I can tell you this: I have a rough draft of the fourth chapter written, it just needs to be edited.

Thanks again!


	5. day 011: the one with the telepaths

You have no idea how difficult it has been thinking of where I'm going to take this. I was originally going to post this right after Texas, but then school got in the way. And then other episodes happened, and _hoo boy_ , the amount of brainstorming I have had to do to make sure that I can see this thing through? Ridiculous. Although I think I've found a way to weave in most of what we've gotten from canon so far. Let's hope so, I guess. Also, **Farkle!** I finally get to introduce this little bugger, I'm so excited!

As always, read and review, please! (Emphasis on the **review** part.)

* * *

The second week of junior year is not so much tense as it is awkward. Maya realizes two hours into Monday that Riley and Lucas have clearly not come to some sort of conclusion as to how they'll act around each other, and it bothers her immensely. They walk as if in a mine field, careful not to let their shoulders or bags or fingers touch. Lucas lets his gaze linger on Riley occasionally, but more often than not, she will only return the look when he isn't aware of it. There's a lot of pining in those eyes, Maya notices; more than she's ever managed to show.

"Are they talking to each other yet?" Farkle asks her later that afternoon. Evidently, he's noticed the change in atmosphere, as well. (In fact, if she really thinks about it, Farkle is the most observant of anyone in their group and likely noticed the shift last Monday.) As Maya tries to put together a decent answer, he darts his gaze towards Riley, who happens to be passing through the hallway while walking with Zay. The brunette appears distracted, albeit grateful for the jester's company. She smiles and offers Maya and Farkle a halfhearted wave.

"Silently," Maya manages to answer. She directs a finger to her face, adding, "You know, with their eyes and shit."

Farkle nods slowly. "Do you think I should stage an intervention?" he asks.

"I think you should mind your own business."

Maya and Farkle both turn on their heels, their eyes stretched wide as Lucas approaches them. He offers each of them a smile, and though Maya does relax once she realizes that he's joking, she can't help but feel that a part of what Lucas says is real. His eyebrows are just barely drawn in, his arms held stiffly about his body. He looks more distracted than he does jovial, and it worries her.

"Worst case scenario?" Farkle suggests. Lucas rolls his eyes while shuffling through books in his locker. "I'm pretty sure it won't come to that," he answers.

"Pretty's not completely."

"No, but it's just about there."

"You never know, Lucas," Farkle persists. "What if you and Riley don't fit into the guaranteed 99.9%?" Maya can't decide whether the genius is incumbent on being correct or simply trying to lighten things up, but whatever he's doing, she's relieved for it. "He's got a point," she interjects, a genuine smile surfacing on her face. Lucas directs his gaze towards her. "We are not going to make this the topic of our daily conversation," he replies, smiling while he says it but making sure to look at each of them pointedly.

"So you plan on talking to Riley today?" Maya asks jovially, although hopefully, too. She has no idea how he's managed to bear the radio silence between him and Riley for this long. Maya has never lasted more than an hour without wanting to talk to her best friend, and here Lucas is, steadily approaching the one-week mark of no substantial conversation. She and Farkle have a bet going to see how long the fractured couple's lack of communication will last, and Maya (to her immense disappointment) happens to be winning. Just three more hours, and Farkle will be handing her fifteen dollars she never wanted in the first place.

Lucas smiles. "I plan on trying," he replies.

It takes a great force of will (read: her teeth) for Maya not to sarcastically bite back, because supposedly, Lucas has been 'trying' to talk to Riley for at least a week. Supposedly, she has managed successfully to dodge him at every turn. Supposedly, he still thinks that 'trying' is going to work, even though circumstance has told him otherwise. Maya catches Farkle's eye as she mulls over this, and upon a prompted look from her, he awkwardly clears his throat.

"Maybe you should 'try' something else," he says, for starters.

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

Farkle stutters incoherently for a bit before replying resolutely, "Ask Maya. She knows."

" _Do_ you?" Lucas asks in amusement, turning to look Maya in the eye. Maya feels her cheeks flush slightly as she's put on the spot, and she momentarily shifts her gaze to pierce Farkle with a threatening glare. _Four_ years he's trained under the girls' critically acclaimed tutelage, and he still can't seem to handle being seriously questioned by Lucas. Just the thought of it, Maya knows, makes the usually confident boy genius melt into a puddle of stuttered words and darting eyes. It's kind of cute, in all honesty, but since it in no way helps her here, she makes her glare as hard and long as her eyes can muster.

Lucas waves a hand in front of her face. "Earth to Maya," he says, "I'd really like to hear this brilliant idea of yours."

Maya helplessly grasps at straws before blurting out, "Take her to a movie."

"Wow, I, uh— _Wow._ " She watches nervously as he turns about in a circle and runs a hand through his hair. He's obviously pretending to contemplate her idea, although there's not much room for contemplation given that her idea is the absolute epitome of _stupid._ Maya finds it in herself to send Farkle a second, even more menacing glare. He put her in this mess, and only God knows what she will do to make him pay for it. (Provide her with all of this week's Calculus homework, most likely. It physically pains Farkle to know that Maya cares little more than a penny for Newton's many conjectures and theories.)

Lucas looks at the both of them with a tight-lipped smile. His hand wraps around the strap of his book bag, like it always has when he's feeling particularly uncomfortable about something. Maya parts her lips in an attempt to say something that might salvage the conversation, but Lucas beats her to it. "You know," he says, "maybe I meant it when I said you guys should mind your own business."

And it's almost as if he never walked into her apartment.

"I appreciate the commentary you two are providing. Believe me, I do." Lucas ducks his head slightly, and though Maya knows that he does it to avoid her gaze, she makes no move to say so. Farkle, a few feet away from her, fails to keep his jaw from being pulled taught as his best friend continues, "But maybe I should handle this one on my own." Lucas spares each of them a quick, apologetic glance, and Maya decides that she would object if not for the soft pressure of Farkle's fingers into her arm.

They have this telepathy, she and Farkle. Somehow he knows what she is going to do or going to say, and if she needs to be stopped, he stops her. A hand to her arm, a slight dilation of his eyes. The gestures he makes are not larger than life, but, over the years, she's found it in herself to be able to spot and apply them. Her current anger at him starts to diminish as she remembers that he has saved her on multiple occasions, possibly including this one. His jaw (sharp, chiseled, as taken note of by Riley on the first day of school) remains to be loosened up, but the tips of his fingers on her arm are more gentle than anything, and so she lets the hot words in her throat slowly die out.

"We're still rooting for you," Maya murmurs instead, making sure to look Lucas in the eye as she says it. "For you and Riley."

Farkle nods. "We always have been," he says, though she knows (or has guessed, in recent years) that this is a lie.

Uncomfortable Lucas returns with the tight-lipped smile to say, "Last time I checked, the rooters stayed on the sidelines." And that, they all know, is the end of it. The minute bell signaling the impending approach of fifth period rings sonorously throughout the hallway, jarring them from their small, seemingly unimportant reality. Maya clutches her books to her chest and offers a stiff nod before turning in the other direction, Farkle loyally following at her heels. They share U.S. History together this period, and if Maya remembers correctly, she has a vocab quiz today that she should be studying for.

"We're not just rooters," Farkle says suddenly, and she mumbles distractedly in reply, "What?"

"We're not just rooters," he repeats, a little louder this time. "We're their friends."

And Maya smiles, because this is where the second part of that telepathy comes in. The part that entails more than just a safety net. Their silent messages may mostly come in handy to keep her from committing some regrettable, embarrassing act, but they also happen to exist within a general, shared train of thought. Farkle has told her, on multiple occasions, that each of them is a line, and that by the definition of a geometric plane and two lines that most certainly aren't parallel, their paths are at some point bound to cross. And this is one of those moments: the moments where they're thinking the exact same thing and somehow they don't need words (or very many) to see it.

"I know, Farkle," she says, before stepping into the classroom.

"I know."

* * *

You may be thinking now, _Is this going anywhere?_ And I promise you, it is. As of now, I can assure you that the real plot wheels are going to start turning. So bear with me just a little longer, if you please. ;)


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